Crosses
by FrozenFractals
Summary: Kate returns to Blackwell [Marshfield]
1. Chapter 1

You didn't think it was going to be this hard.

Her door is ajar, and you can hear sounds coming from inside. She's definitely in there. The urge to hide in your own room rises in your gut, and the guilt that follows feels like a sucker punch. So you stand there awkwardly, trying not to double over with the imaginary pain.

Sure, watching someone jump off of a building not just once, but twice, would have fucked anybody up pretty seriously. But you figured the _real_ outcome would have smothered those- what would you even call them…alternate timelines? Erased them from your head like they were erased from existence because she's _alive_. That the simple – yet insanely powerful – act of Kate stepping away from that edge and grabbing your hand would be enough to overwrite the feel of your stomach dropping into your toes as you watched her fall towards the cold, hard concrete. The sickening crack as one of Newton's Laws – you don't really give a fuck which one it is, that's Warren's thing – snuffed her out without mercy. The taste of the blood in your nose mixing with the bile in the back of your throat as you desperately try to rewind, but your head is pounding and you're too dizzy and then the gasps come again as Kate tips forward-

"Hi Max," A gentle, unsure greeting. Almost a question with the slight upward inflection. You grimace, shoving as many of the intrusive thoughts as you can into the place in your mind where you keep everything that's _wrong_. Where Nathan kills Chloe and the lighthouse crashes into the sea and a tornado wipes out the entire fucking town.

"Oh…I'm sorry. I thought- I'll just leave you alone." She turns, about to slip through the crack between her door and its frame.

Shit.

You take two long strides and catch her wrist. She spins around to face you, tears already pooling in her eyes.

"Kate, no. I'm- don't go," you stutter lamely, quickly releasing her wrist when she glances at it. "Sorry." You step out of her space, fiddling with the strap of your camera bag. "I was just thinking about…" you falter, almost being honest. Almost telling her you saw her die. Twice. "About homework," you finish, unconvincingly.

Kate nods once, brushing at her eyes, clearly not believing you. She knows what you were thinking about. It's all anybody is thinking about when they look at her.

You hate lying to her.

So you don't. "That's bullshit, I'm sorry Kate. I was thinking about you."

"I know you were," she responds, quietly. "Everyone is." She gives you a watery smile. "Guess I'm just destined to be the centre of attention here, huh?"

You can't help but smile back. "I bet Victoria's spewing about the fact that you're more popular than her right now." That earns you a soft giggle, and your heart skips a beat. You haven't heart her express any kind of happiness in over a month, and it makes you strangely proud that you managed to find some in her on her first day back at Blackwell.

A slightly uncomfortable silence creeps between the two of you, and you feel yourself panicking, not wanting anything to stifle this fragile little link you've just created with the girl who's made a dangerous habit of hiding all her pain.

"I like ginger tea," you blurt out, mentally smacking yourself before the words have even registered with her. She blinks, brow furrowed, drawing a breath to respond, but you get there first. "Uh, what I meant was that I like to get ginger tea after class sometimes. At this place down the road. It's pretty comfy and no one will bother us there."

You realise you're assuming she has nothing else to do than get a stupid cup of tea with you. Or that she even wants to be around you. Christ, every single time she looks at you probably reminds her of the worst day of her life. "Oh man," you sigh, looking down at your shoes. "I am just fucking this up so hard, I'm sorry."

A soft hand on your bicep makes you aware of the fact that you've been picking a hole in the worn grey fabric of your sleeve. "You're not," she assures you. "Max…" she hesitates. The way she says your name with that sweet voice makes you want to cry a little. "You're not fucking anything up."

Your eyes snap to hers, surprised. You've never heard the girl say a single curse word. "Sorry," she says, blushing. "I just wanted to know what it felt like. To say that, I mean." You chuckle and the corners of her mouth turn up a little.

"How'd it feel?" you ask, half-teasing. "Do you think they'll kick you out of church for it?"

The budding smile disappears from her face. "Ah fuck," you mumble. "Kate-"

"I tried to end my life, Max," she says, voice wavering. "I'll be lucky if they don't chase me down with pitchforks." She pulls her hand away from your sleeve and wipes at her cheeks, and you realise then she's really crying. "You're the only person in this entire town who thinks of me as more than Make Out Kate or That Girl Who Tried To Kill Herself, you know that? You're the only one who makes me feel like I'm not some freak who came back from the dead."

You bite your tongue at that, because for you, that's exactly what she's done.

"You've been so sweet to me this entire year, and I repaid you by making you responsible for talking me down off of that roof." She angrily wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "Now you're inviting me out for tea?" She questions, her tone so accusatory you recoil, confused as hell.

"Should- should I not have?" you ask, tentatively, unsure what's going on. You briefly entertain the idea of rewinding, but this girl is finally getting a chance to express herself, and erasing all that from her memory seems…wrong somehow. "I thought you liked tea?"

Kate throws her hands in the air. You didn't think it was possible, but now you're even more confused.

You start damage control. "If you don't really want to be around me, that's okay, I get it. I can just bring you back something and leave it outside your-"

"Who _are_ you, Max Caulfield?" She barks, shoving you. You take a step backwards, and for once in your life, your clumsiness doesn't fuck you over as you remain standing, staring incredulously at the girl in front of you.

"Oh God," she breathes, eyes widening. She clamps a hand to her mouth, shaking her head quickly and retreating. Her hands fall to her sides. "I'm so sorry, Max. I didn't-" She backs into the wall, looking every bit the terrified animal as you continue to stand there, mind completely blank.

The silence stretches into minutes before she finally speaks again.

"I just don't understand," she says, defeated. "Do you feel sorry for me? Is that why you're asking me to hang out?" Her voice catches, "What do you _want_ from me?"

Your heart squeezes painfully, and the sensation jumpstarts your brain again. "I don't want anything _from_ you, Kate," you reply. "I just want you to be okay."

And suddenly Kate is off the wall and falling into you, throwing her arms around your neck and _sobbing_ like every emotion she's buried over the last few weeks is crushing her with such overwhelming force you swear you can feel it too.

No wait. That's just the force of Kate's forward momentum propelling you both into the opposite wall of the hallway. The breath is stolen from your lungs and you're not sure if it's the impact of your back against the solid surface that's responsible, or the way Kate's fingers dig tighter into your shoulders as you slip an arm around her waist, bracing yourself against the wall with the other to keep you both upright.

Either way, you're wincing and she's crying and Victoria or Taylor or _someone_ is going to appear soon to investigate the noise and the last fucking thing you want is to give anyone another reason to make fun of the sweet, vulnerable girl in your arms. So you half-lead half-carry her towards your dorm not having a damn clue what to say, so you settle for a mantra of 'it's okay, you're okay', until you finally manage to haul her inside the room and kick the door shut behind you, gently depositing her onto the bed.

"I'm sorry, Max, I'm so sorry," she repeats, hiccupping, before abruptly standing and trying to push past you to get to the door you just closed.

You want to rewind. Hold your tongue instead of blurting out some stupid line about ginger tea. Or was it because you lied to her? Should you just rewind and sneak into your dorm so she doesn't even know you're there? What if that upsets her even further and she goes back to the roof?

You bite the inside of your cheek. You know that's not fair. Assuming she's going to try and off herself at any slight offence from you or anyone else at the school. But it _does_ worry you. It makes you want to go everywhere with her. Hold her hand and walk next to her and give everyone the stink eye for making this soft-hearted girl feel like she had no other way out. You want to hold her until your soul seeps through your skin and into hers, burrowing your way into her heart so you can shield it with everything you are.

But she's still trying to get past you and you're still standing there, dumbfounded, like you've never seen a girl cry before – you haven't…not like this – as panic rises inside you. Your brain and heart are screaming at you in unison to stop her before she disappears, so you grab her around the shoulders, a little more roughly than you meant to, and pull her against you.

"Stay with me, Kate," you plead. "Stay with me."

You both know exactly what you mean by that, and her arms come up around your sides, squeezing the air out of your lungs but it's okay because you're pretty sure you've been holding your breath for the last twenty seconds anyway. Fingernails dig into your shoulders again and the tears are making the sensitive skin of your neck kind of itchy and you have so much on your plate right now that you're not sure how you're going to be able to handle it all, but your hand moves to gently stroke messy hair without a second thought, and the action seems to calm you as much as it does her.

Soon you're sitting against the slats that make up the headboard of your bed, Kate curled into your side, back pressed against the wall because the tiny single is hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, even if Kate is only about a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.

You feel her speak before the words register. "It scares me," she mumbles into your shoulder, the soft vibrations making your chest reverberate strangely. You wait for her to elaborate, because there are a multitude of things that she could be talking about. The video, Victoria's malicious vendetta against her, Mr and Mrs Marsh, how close she came to-

"It scares me how much I think I need you."

Oh.

That one never crossed your mind.

But now that she's made you aware of it, it scares the shit out of you too. Because both of you shared something on that rooftop, where not even the pouring rain could wash away her tears or your nosebleed. And it definitely couldn't wash away the fact that even though it was ultimately Kate's choice not to jump, it was your adamant promise to help her that made her see she even _had_ a choice.

'Your life is still yours,' you told her. But if you're being honest with yourself, that's only half true. Because now you feel like her life is also _yours_. Not because you she owes it to you, but because you _need_ it. And now people are calling you an Everyday Hero for saving a life that you're not sure you could have lived without.

The words swell up and build a pressure in your chest that you've never really felt before. It's uncomfortable, so you let them out.

"I need you too, Kate."

There's no tightening of her arms around your waist, or soft gaze turning to look up at you. No sharp inhale or other affirmation that you've said the right or wrong thing. Just Kate, chest rising and falling steadily against your side.

You realise then that she already knew. Even when you yourself didn't know. You didn't know you actually _needed_ her until you risked an aneurysm to get up to that roof before she gave herself over to gravity. In this messed up place where fathers die and girls disappear and boys wave guns around in bathrooms and creepy security guards spy on students, you _need_ her to remind you that not everything is fucked beyond repair. That it's not just you and your fledgling powers against the almost unstoppable force that seems determined to rip this town apart from the inside.

You want to ask her when she figured it out. _How_ she figured it out. But she shifts and sighs against you, relaxing slightly, as if your admission has alleviated her fears somehow, because if she's not the only one who needs another person that badly, it can't be too dangerous, right?

So you hold her a little tighter and breathe a little deeper. "We can be scared together, okay?"

"Okay," she replies. "We're okay."

Your voice is an echo to hers. "Yeah, we're okay."


	2. Chapter 2

She never had to ask you if she could stay the night, and you never had to offer. You both just sort of wind up under the covers, faces illuminated by the rapidly changing colours on the screen of your laptop as you watch _Pocahontas_. You can feel the heat from the plastic base seeping through the blanket, uncomfortably warm on your stomach. The fan is working overtime, so you've had to max out the volume just to hear the dialogue, and your neck is resting at an awkward angle because you've turned the screen more towards Kate than yourself.

The entire experience would be pretty average if it weren't for Kate softly humming along to _Colours Of The Wind_ right now. You try to smother the grin on your face in case she looks over at you. The last thing you want is to make her feel self-conscious about expressing this tiny bit of joy. Her eyes are red and her cheeks are shining in the soft glow and you're starting to regret leaving your camera in your bag near the door, well out of arm's reach.

You don't realise you're staring until the humming stops.

"I'm sorry," she says, looking at you solemnly, voice thick from the tears earlier. "Is that annoying?" Her eyes flick to the screen before meeting yours again. "I just really love this song," she admits, embarrassed.

"I can tell," you tease gently, smiling so she knows you're not trying to make fun of her. "It's fine." Her face softens, and you figure she's been bullied about this before. For something as harmless as singing along to a cute song. Your throat tightens, and you cough once, looking back at the screen.

"Thanks Max," she whispers.

The blankets rustle, and you feel her fingers brush against your palm as she lets them rest there. Her hand is cold, so you curl your own around it, imagining the warmth from the laptop coursing through your body and spreading into hers. She takes that as permission to move a little closer, rolling onto her side and turning the laptop screen back towards you. The angle is much better and you could straighten out your neck but now her head is so close to yours on the pillow that you can feel her breath tickling your ear and you're not sure you _want_ to move.

That thought surprises you, but it's fleeting, and it dissolves into the warm, heavy air of your room before you can catch it, so you eventually allow your eyes to fall shut, following your consciousness as it slips between the trees of the tidewaters with Pocahontas.

* * *

You wake to the gentle movements of Kate trying to shuffle to the end of the bed in the darkness so that she doesn't have to climb over you to get up. Your pulse quickens, and it takes you the few seconds between her standing up and actually making it to the door to realise that you're starting to panic whenever she moves out of your reach.

Ignoring the rational part of your mind that tells you to give her a little space and treat her like a responsible adult, you say her name. Your voice cracks with sleep and worry floods the gaps, so she turns towards the bed.

"I'm okay Max," she whispers. "I'm just going to take a shower before class."

You swallow, trying to find the right words amongst the too-slowly-clearing fog in your mind to ask what you want to ask.

"I'll be back soon," she assures you with a brief smile. She inhales, as if to say something else, but hesitates.

"Promise?" you croak out, cringing at the neediness and the implication behind the word.

Her shoulders drop a little and you wish you weren't so fucking _clumsy_. "Yes," she replies. "I promise."

"Mm'kay," you mumble, eyes dropping closed again despite your every effort to keep them open and focused so you can read what her body language is practically screaming at you. You bite your cheek to jolt yourself into consciousness for another few seconds. "Wake me before class and we'll go together, yeah?"

The click of the door shutting behind her is her only response.

Suddenly your alarm is blaring and light is streaming through the gap in your curtains. You're disoriented, unsure if you fell asleep for five minutes or an hour, since you have no idea what time it was when Kate got up.

Your eyes snap open.

Kate.

You throw the covers off, flinging the door open and crossing the hallway in four strides to knock on her door.

"Kate?!" you call through the worn wood. "Are you in there?"

You barely wait three seconds for a response before you're turning the doorknob, expecting the door to be locked but stumbling inside when you find it's not.

The room is still dark, but clean. Clothes are no longer strewn on the floor, and the disturbing drawings that used to cover her desk are gone. You hope she tore them up and threw them off the roof.

You turn to leave, disappointed to note that a sheet is still covering her mirror. You tell yourself she just hasn't had a chance to remove it yet, and walk quickly towards the showers, shutting the door behind you, despite desperately wanting to leave it open to let the shitty fluorescent lighting from the hallway chase away some of the residual darkness and heartache caked onto the walls of what was once her only refuge from the world.

You're vaguely aware of how ridiculous you're being, but you still can't quell the rising panic in your chest as you approach the bathroom and push the door open so hard it bangs against the adjacent wall.

"Kate?" Your voice is weighed down by the steam and the sound of running water. One shower curtain is drawn across the stall, and you can see a silhouette behind it, seated in the corner. "Kate? That's you in there, right? I really hope so because otherwise this is going to be super awkward for-"

"It's me," comes a quiet reply.

You shift your weight, the tiles wet under your feet. Again, you realise you have absolutely no idea how long she's been gone from your room. It hits you how stupid you must seem, accosting the girl as she's trying to get ready for class. There's a small gap between the curtain and the stall, and you can see pale skin glistening through the haze. She's naked and vulnerable and the urge to pull her against you until you can feel her heart beating against your chest surprises you with its intensity. The thought makes you flush with embarrassment and a ringing fills your ears.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you stammer, averting your eyes and staring at the mottled ceiling. "I wasn't sure- I woke up and didn't know how long you'd been gone so…" You wince, trying to salvage your bumbled explanation. "Are you alright?"

You hear her sigh – with frustration or sadness, you're not entirely sure. "I'll be alright, Max, thank you," she says, voice trembling but sweet. You relax slightly.

"Okay. That's…good," you reply stupidly. "Um, I'll go get changed. Come get me when you're done and we can walk to campus together, okay?" You know you're pushing, but you're not willing to let her walk into that building alone. You don't trust the school to keep Nathan suspended until Kate can face him again. You don't trust Mr Jefferson's speech to the class about his zero-tolerance stance on bullying. You don't trust Dana's guilt or Victoria's realisation that actions have consequences and you certainly don't trust that any of them will hold back the razor sharp words that once cut ribbons through Kate's delicate skin and made her heart bleed.

"Max…" she pleads, "I'm not-"

"I know, Kate, I'm sorry," you interrupt her. "I should give you space but Victoria's a bitch and even if she genuinely feels guilty about…well, about the shit she pulled, I wouldn't put it past her to attack you as soon as you set foot inside that classroom again. And I'm not willing to let that happen just yet. So please, let me walk with you?"

The sound of water hitting the floor is all that fills the silence for a good ten seconds. It's a thunderstorm and your breathing is the gale that accompanies it.

"I'm not going to try and kill myself again, Max," comes a surprisingly firm voice from inside the shower stall.

You almost say 'I know', but stop yourself. The truth is you didn't know. You _don't_ know. You feel like she's still standing on that ledge and the slightest gust of wind carrying the wrong words could push her off.

And then it dawns on you. You don't trust _her_ either.

The thought makes you feel ill. You want to trust her, because she's the only good, honest thing about this entire school, but you're too scared of losing her to believe that she really means the words hanging heavily in the humid air of the bathroom.

"I'll wait in my room," you say, aware you're not leaving her with a choice. You feel selfish for ignoring her last statement, so you tell yourself you'll acknowledge it on the way to class. Address it in the open air of Oregon where the breeze can lighten the heavy sentiment and the ruddy hue of autumn leaves helps you see beauty instead of blood in the colour red.


	3. Chapter 3

She's nervous. Her fingers are trembling and her palm is sweaty against yours when you squeeze her hand. She's taking shallow breaths, trying to draw air into lungs that are trapped in a vice of fear. You know from experience that it's near impossible to do.

"It's busier than I remember," she says quietly, eyes rapidly flicking over the multitude of students milling about in front of the main entrance.

It's not really any busier than usual, but you don't refute her observation, because the last memory she has of this place is probably one of grey skies and empty lawns and a heart as heavy as her clothes weighed down by the icy rain. So you squeeze her hand again and say nothing as you lead her across the courtyard and into the school.

Kate keeps her head down, but you meet the gaze of every single person staring at her, daring them to try and alleviate their own guilt by apologising for the actions that put the sweet girl by your side in the hospital. You don't know most of them, but the bitter _hate_ you feel for every single face in that hallway overwhelms you. You want to blame them for their curiosity – for watching the video. For standing by and doing nothing. For leaving you to stand up for Kate all on your own. You're not used to feeling such loathing. You want to take it out on something. It's boiling in your stomach and you need to get it out before it burns through your insides.

"Kate! You're back!" Victoria strides in to Kate's personal space, ignoring your heated glare. "Oh I'm so glad you're alright. I don't know if I would have been able to forgive myself if…well, you know." She moves to embrace the girl, but you knock her arms away.

"Fuck off, Victoria," you growl. "Leave her alone."

Victoria has the audacity to look taken aback by the venom in your voice. "Um, excuse _me_ , Max, but I'm trying to apologise to Kate here, so maybe you can knock it off with the guard dog routine for five seconds, okay? _Thanks_." She draws out that last word until it grates against you hard enough to cause sparks and start a fire that blazes sudden and hot.

" _No_ ," you grind out between clenched teeth. "I'm not fucking around, Victoria." You step between her and Kate, letting go of Kate's hand. Your heart is going wild and you're shaking, but you push on, making sure you don't jumble your words because you need everyone to hear this. "You don't get to ' _apologise'_ , or whatever the fuck this fake-ass thing is that you're doing. I _know_ you don't give a shit about Kate beyond salvaging your own reputation because you're afraid that there are now people here in this hallway who realise what a colossal fucking _bitch_ you are."

Victoria's jaw drops and it takes her several seconds to strike back, shoving your shoulder. " _Fuck you_ , Max Caulfield! You don't know a goddamn thing about me!" You weren't expecting the physical assault, so you stumble a little, accidentally knocking Kate in the ribs with your elbow. She makes a tiny noise and it sets you off more violently than you can control.

The murmur from the growing crowd rises, fanning the flames of your rage, and you throw all your weight behind the hand you slam into Victoria's sternum. She keeps her balance by taking two steps backwards, and her face twists into a menacing grin. Your stomach drops, because you know she's about to do what she does best.

"Keep your hands off me, you _dyke_ ," she sneers. "Save that groping shit for your disgusting hipster girlfriend."

The word stings you more than it ought to, and you fall into her trap. "Chloe's not my girlfriend, you asshole."

"Could have fooled me." She replies, an unnerving steadiness in her voice. "I've seen you two playing white trash wives at that dump of a diner. What's it called again? Two _Whores_? Little inaccurate, don't you think? I only ever see her mom behind the counter, so tell me, Max – who's the other whore?"

"Don't you fucking talk about Joyce like that," you spit. You've never been this livid in your life. "She's an awesome mom! You have no idea what she's been through-"

"Well I know she's shacking up with that freak pedo of a security guard," Victoria says, smirking. "Poor _Joyce_ , having to settle for _that_ because her husband would rather kill himself than deal with such a fucking train wreck of a daughter-"

Your fist hits her nose with an awful crunch and it makes you want to hurl. She doubles over, hands flying up to cover the damage, screaming thickly through a stream of blood that leaks through her fingers as she drops to her knees. Courtney and Taylor both rush to her side, and you hear Dana's voice above the sudden cacophony. "What the _fuck_ , Max? What is _wrong_ with you?!"

You step backwards in shock, unnerved by the scene in front of you – what you've done – forgetting that Kate is right behind you.

Except she's not. You search the hall, frantically looking for her, but she's somehow managed to slip away in the chaos.

"Fuck," you mutter. "Fuck fuck fuck". This is a mess. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to take Kate to class and sit with her and laugh at Mr Jefferson being pretentious and just show her things can be _normal_ again. Instead you've just ostracised her and yourself from the entire student body by punching Victoria Chase square in the fucking face.

The booming voice of Principal Wells cuts through your panic. "What the _hell_ is going on here?" he shouts, and before anyone can point a finger at you, you've already made your decision. Your left hand flies up. Principal Wells walks backwards into his office. Victoria stands up and blood runs from her hands into her nose. Kate reappears at your side. The sharp pain in your head strikes without warning, and you immediately push your hand against it, slamming your eyes shut, hearing, rather than seeing, time resume its normal flow.

"Kate! You're back!"

Now you let Victoria's hug last for the requisite time it takes for her to convince everyone she's _really truly sorry_ , feeling useless and sick at Kate's obvious discomfort. You let her play Saint Victoria until a tear rolls down Kate's pale cheek, and you make some excuse about the girl needing to talk to Mr Jefferson before class starts.

A locker suffers your frustration on the way to room 102 as you slam a fist into it, and you have to rewind because the frightened distance Kate puts between the two of you after that is too much for you to bear. So you hide the bruised fist in the pocket of your hoodie and let the pain in your hand overshadow the pain Victoria's words caused in your chest.

You sit Kate down at her usual table, and drop your bag next to the empty chair on the adjacent side, standing awkwardly next to her tiny form hunched over in the seat. "I need to go to the bathroom real quick," you say, placing a hand on her shoulder, garnering her attention. Victoria's slurs echo in your head and you jerk your hand back to your side. "Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

She nods, a tight smile meant to assure you. You choose to believe her this time, and within thirty seconds you're in the bathroom, sinking down into the corner behind the maintenance cart, hot tears of frustration and hurt spilling down your face.

You're struggling so badly under the responsibility of these powers – the abject _loneliness_ they cause you. You can rewind time but the emotional consequences of _all_ your actions remain, tangled together like tape caught in a broken VCR player. And it takes too much of your energy to keep your memories straight and you're starting to dread rewinding even when you _have_ to.

You desperately want someone to talk to. Someone who _understands_. Yes, Chloe knows, but she doesn't _get_ it.

You're convinced Kate would get it. Kate is smart and responsible and sweet and wouldn't make you rewind to guess what's in her pockets or to save her from killing herself whilst shooting beer bottles in a junkyard. She'd help you do good for the world. Deliver Meals on Wheels in record time or something.

But the truth is, you want more than just Kate helping you to do good things. You want her to be your person. The one you can go to with your mistakes and excuses and insecurities. She would help you figure out why you got these powers. She knows about destiny and sacrifice and all of the heavy words you associate with the ability to decide exactly which timeline you permit to survive at the expense of a hundred others.

But another part of you – the part that isn't selfish beyond reason – recognises this is altogether an unfairly huge bomb to drop on someone as fragile as Kate.

So for now, you're stuck praying to the dirty white walls that you can grow strong enough – soon enough – to take care of yourself and everyone you care about without crumpling under the weight of it all.


End file.
